


Show Me

by ExpressAndAdmirable



Series: Delicious Friends [1]
Category: Fallen London | Echo Bazaar
Genre: Backstory, Gen, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Queerplatonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:49:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29782596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExpressAndAdmirable/pseuds/ExpressAndAdmirable
Summary: Teenage Ari's life has been turned upside-down by the loss of his parents at zee, but his introduction to his guardian's world leads to new relationships and personal truths.
Series: Delicious Friends [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2189394





	Show Me

**Author's Note:**

> Ari is my OC from a Fallen London RP server; Shoshana Edelman is my actual FL account. I hadn't initially intended the two to be connected, but I'm pleased by the development.

It was raining, because of course it was raining. It had rained every day for weeks.

“Hurry up, mayzele! With legs so long, you can’t walk a bit faster?”

Ari sighed inwardly and quickened his pace, catching up to the impossibly ugly calico coat and equally ugly floral umbrella and falling into step behind their owner. “Sorry, Rose,” he muttered.

“Tch! Always with your apologies. Do you apologise to your nose when you sneeze?”

The boy pursed his lips and did not dignify the question with a response.

His mother echoed in his mind: _“Yes, I know, she’s a bit eccentric, but she has a good heart. She’ll look in on you while we’re away, make sure you eat and leave for school on time. Just for a few weeks, love. It won’t be forever.”_

 _Mameh._ Ari’s chest tightened, a fresh rip current of grief threatening to overtake him. He tried to hold onto the tones of her voice, imprint their rising and falling onto his memory. It was all he had left.

Shoshana ‘Ariadne Rose’ Edelman stopped short and, lost in his thoughts, Ari nearly collided with her. “Here we are,” she announced. “‘Round the back is where we go in.”

Without the bright marquee that shone on show nights, the theatre looked dark and foreboding, little different than the countless other massive brick structures that lined the streets of London. The stage door was tucked down a tiny alley running down the side of the building, marked by a single glim lamp that sputtered above the door frame. Without knocking, Rose grasped the handle and pushed.

Warm yellow gaslight spilled onto the glistening street, accompanied by a cacophonous array of voices. Some practiced arias, some argued, others laughed. Somewhere further inside, a piano started and stopped. As Ari followed Rose through the door, shaking the rain from his umbrella and storing it in a rack nearby, he could not help but gawk at the flurry of colour and activity around him. Old production broadsides lined the walls, interspersed with living dancers going through their paces and half-finished set pieces awaiting completion. It was a wonder anyone could move through the space at all.

“Now, mayzele, I rehearse until at least half eleven, likely later. If you need me, I’ll be onstage or in one of the first few rows.” In her workplace, Rose was all business. “Find a place to sit and entertain yourself until I’m done; do your schoolwork, or sketch something. Or make a friend, nu?” she added with a raised eyebrow. “You can do that, can’t you?” With that, she turned on her heel and left.

Suddenly very much alone, Ari glanced around him, spying a low sofa that seemed relatively out of the way amid the racks of costumes and tables littered with props. A dark-skinned youth of similar age to himself sat at one end, a swath of blue fabric draped across his lap and a sewing needle in one hand. He eyed Ari as he settled gingerly at the other end, and after a few moments, he lowered the needle.

“Why does Madame Rose call you ‘mayzele’?” he asked. “I can tell it’s not your name.”

Fighting the sudden urge to flee, Ari debated whether or not to answer truthfully. “Ah… She thinks I’m too quiet,” he said finally. Then: “It means ‘mouse’.”

The boy scoffed, giving Ari an appraising once-over. “You don’t look like a mouse to me.” He turned to face Ari more fully, leaning against the arm of the sofa. “What’s your name, then?”

“Ari. ...Yours?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

At Ari’s confused frown, the boy smirked. “Well, I’m not with the urchin-gangs anymore, so I daresay a reinvention is in order. I’m thinking _Justine_.” Leaning back into the sofa’s cushions, he spread his arms dramatically, adopting the pose of an odalisque. “It sounds awfully dramatic, don’t you think?”

Despite himself, Ari chuckled softly. “It does.”

A genuine smile that may have contained just a hint of relief lit up the boy’s face. “That settles it, then. My name is Justine, and I am simply _delighted_ to make your acquaintance, Ari.” He tilted his head, regarding his new companion with enigmatic amusement. “Madame Rose never mentioned she had a son. Nephew?”

Ari shook his head. “Ward. It’s, ah...” Withdrawing into himself a touch, he looked blankly at the floor. “It’s a new arrangement.”

Justine’s expression softened. “What happened?”

Meeting Justine’s gaze again, Ari willed the words to come. He had spoken to almost no-one beyond Rose and the Rabbi of his parents’ deaths, but something in Justine’s lovely dark eyes made him feel… safe?

“Accident at zee,” he murmured.

Reaching across the sofa, Justine took Ari’s hand in his, seeming not to notice the look of surprise on the taller boy’s face. “I’m sorry. May their memories be a blessing. That’s how you say it, right?”

Mutely, Ari nodded.

Justine smiled gently, then straightened as a thought occurred to him. “Is this your first time in the Lyric? What a dreary introduction! Come, I’ll give you a tour of the old girl. It’s a bit of a labyrinth, but you’ll feel right at home in no time.” Setting his sewing task aside, he rose, tugging on Ari’s hand. “Come on, duckie.” He grinned. “They say the basement might be haunted!”

In the brief moment it took for Ari’s brain to catch up with the events of linear time, several things occurred all at once. Justine’s grip was firm and sure, and the sensation of his fingers on Ari’s skin sent a thrill through his heart that defied words. A furious flush spread across his cheeks, accentuating the naked shock on his features. Perennial wonderings reaching back into boyhood made themselves known once again, pressing insistently against his conscious mind. It was as if the missing pieces of himself had suddenly appeared, keys fitting perfectly into locks, revealing answers to questions he had long been too afraid to ask. Realisation sounded like thunder in his ears, or perhaps it was merely his pulse. A door had opened, and there was only one direction to go.

Ari blinked. Then he smiled. “Alright,” he agreed with a small nod. “Show me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Adult Ari's face claim is Lee Pace, and Justine's is Billy Porter. Because they're both perfect.


End file.
